


The Slow Draw

by givemeunicorns



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: F/F, Grief/Mourning, Multi, Nightmares, Polyamory
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-04
Updated: 2015-02-04
Packaged: 2018-03-10 12:45:24
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,373
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3290801
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/givemeunicorns/pseuds/givemeunicorns
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Grief is a bitter thing but Bobbi has tasted it before. She'll get them through it, because she knows how, but it doesn't make loosing a friend any easier.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Slow Draw

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Dazzledfirestar](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dazzledfirestar/gifts).



> Written for Dazzledfirestar during the Marvel Ployamory Fic Fest!
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't own these characters and make no profit from this writing.

The text came at two a.m. The whirring buzz of Bobbi's phone cut through the almost silence of the training room, the sound of her own heavy breathing echoing off the walls. She tightening her fingers around the batons then slowly let them go, tucking them under her arm as she crossed the gym. Jemma's number lit up on screen and Bobbi frowned, opening the message.

_Can you come to medical? She had another nightmare. A bad one._

Bobbi cured under her breath, reaching to wipe the sweat out of her face. Sleeping wasn't exactly her strong suit right now either. Finding the city, and loosing Trip, had carved a whole out of them they that they just couldn't seem to staunch the bleeding. But none so much as Skye. Something had happened to her down there none of them understood. Trip had died trying to save her from it, Raina had escaped in the madness. It have scrapped her raw and she wasn't dealing well. Jemma did what she could, more than she had the energy to do really, but that was Jemma, willing to lay down on coals to make someone else's passage easier. It was one of the things that had attracted her to Jemma in the first place.

Bobbi wasn't really sure when it had become Bobbi _and_ Jemma, let alone when it had become Bobbi  _and_ Jemma  _and_ Skye. But still it had happened, the three of them fitting together like puzzle pieces when things got tough. They'd never been tougher than they were right now. 

_On my way_ Bobbi typed back, reaching for her sweatshirt. 

She stank like anger and sweat and tears and fear, but they needed her now more than she needed a shower. She tucked her baton's neatly into her bag, pulled up her hair, and headed out.

“Bob?” Lance caught her, as she passed his room. His hair was mused and his eyes thick with sleep. She could still smell the booze on his breath. They all had their way of dealing, “It's two in the bloody morning? Why do you look like you just ran a mile?”

“Not now Lance,” She said, exhausted and he furrowed his brows, “I'm okay, I just need to go right now.”

“You don't do baton work at two in the morning when you're okay,” he said obstinately, “But then I suppose aren't any of us that are okay right now, are we?”

Bobbi shrugged.

“Guess not,” she sighed, heading down back down the hall.

“Just don't grind yourself down to nothing Bobbi. You won't do them any good if there's nothing left of you.”

“Good night Lance,” she called over her shoulder, his gaze hot against her back, to close to home. Somethings never changed, no matter how long they were apart, she couldn't forget the way his whole face pulled together when he worried.

She slipped into medic with a touch more caution to her steps. Mack was still hooked up to half a dozen machines, trying to figure out what the city did to him. So far Jemma could find nothing but dehydration and a mild burn on one are, but he sleeps like dead. She tried not to stop outside the window but did anyway. Mack had always been the best sort of friend to her, the kind of friend who was honest with you, told you what you needed to hear even when you didn't want to hear it. It had been Mack who'd told her to leave Lance, that she owed nothing to a man who didn't trust her, not matter how much she loved him. Mack who'd had her back when things turned nasty. There was still a bruise on her throat where his fingers had been. She watched him fall in her head again, and shuttered. She thought she'd lost him, and that had hurt her more than she had words for. Her eyes flicked to Fitz, folding tightly into the chair by the bed, in a way only he seemed capable of, fast asleep. Mack was a mechanic, he was good at fixing things, and better at knowing when they didn't need fixed. Losing him would have torn them at the seams.

But they'd still lost someone. Trip had been the best kind of man, the best kind of person. And there wasn't even anything left to bury. She swallowed down the dry burning in her throat and kept walking.

The little glass room reeked of nightmares, of antiseptic, and fear and acrid sweat. Skye was curled into a tight ball in the middle of the bed. There was a smear of blood on the sheets. Her iv was in her hand now, instead of her arm. Her muscles seems wound so tightly she was shaking, cheeks hollow and bangs plastered to her forehead with cold sweat. Jemma fingered combed them away, but Skye didn't look at her, eyes screwed closed but the tears still coming anyway.

Jemma looked up at Bobbi with a pleading gaze. Her eye were bagged and bloodshot. She'd been doing a lot of crying too, when she thought no one was watching. Jemma was deceptively good at being the strong one, but Bobbi could see the cracks. She hadn't been given a chance to mourn really, she was the doctor. She was needed.

Bobbi dropped her bag quietly in the corner, making just enough noise as she crossed the room to let Skye know she was there.

“Hey,” She said softly, sitting on edge of the bed, smoothing a hand down Skye's back, “we got you sweetheart. You want to talk about it?”

“I was remembering,” she choked, “He reached for me, but when I touched him he just...fell away. Nothing left. I couldn't stop it. I couldn't save him.”

“It's not your fault, Skye,” Jemma said softly, wiping the tears with her thumb but Skye still didn't open her eyes.

Bobbi knew that guilt, the kind that weighed so heavy in your chest it felt like carrying a stone while you waded in a river. Keeping it from drowning you was the hardest thing in the world sometimes.

“Raina did this, and she got to walk away but Trip, we can't even bury him,” she whined through her teeth, as much helpless anger in her voice now and grief, “Whatever she became slunk into the tunnels and Trip was nothing left but a pile of stone. Ward gets to live and see and do things because _I_ didn't kill him when I had the chance. Raina got to become whatever it was she was looking for, she got to destory him, because I had a gun on her and _I_ didn't pull the trigger. I didn't do anything to stop it, I'm supposed be _something_ but I couldn't do anything. It's not _fair.”_

 _“_ It never is,” Bobbi told her gently, “But darling, you're not a killer, that's not who you are and Trip knew that. Trip made the choice knowing the risks. He cared about you, he was brave, and he touched obelisk knowing what it would likely do. I know it's hard. I know it makes you feel helpless, I know it hurts. But Trip made a choice because he wanted to, he was a hero because that was who he was, and we have to respect that. It was worth it to him, to give his life to stop what was happening.”

Another sob tore it's way out Skye's chest again and Jemma cringed.

“You need to sleep Jemma, let the others handle things for the night,” Bobbi said, sliding down in bed next to Skye, pulling the younger woman's body against her. She curled around her, her chest to Skye's back, hand warm and solid on Skye's stomach, and Jemma nodded, shrugging out of her lab coat and toeing out of her shoes. She slipped into the bed with the, fingers combing through Skye's hair. Her breathing evened as the curled around her, protective, keeping out all the things she simply couldn't deal with right now. It would be a long night, a dark night, one of many Bobbi was sure. But at least they weren't alone.

 


End file.
